Chapter LII

Fane had already confided Langley’s history to Lady Lee, and he now showed her the testimony of his innocence, and consulted her as to the best course to be pursued.

They agreed it would be best to say nothing, either to Langley or Orelia, of the matter, until Mr Payne should have apprised Mr Levitt of his nephew’s innocence, and effected a reconciliation. Fane did not in the least doubt that his uncle would be eager to extend forgiveness; but a delay of a day or two would be trifling, and the pleasure of a first meeting between the lovers would be greatly enhanced by the removal, beforehand, of every obstacle to their happiness.

Mr Payne, coming down from town to report his ill success in the attempt to discover Seager, was agreeably surprised by Fane’s news. He posted off without delay to show the document to his friend Mr Levitt, and, a couple of days afterwards, wrote to tell Fane that the news had produced the best effect on his uncle’s health, that he was eager to embrace Langley, and that they would be down together in person on the following day.

Fane was seated on a sofa near the fire (it was a cold morning) whispering into Lady Lee’s willing yet averted ear, numerous reckless and persuasive arguments for an immediate union. What were riches to them while they were thus kept apart? He, for his part, would, he said, dig cheerfully all day, could he be sure of finding her ready to give zest to his pottage, cheerfulness to his fireside, when he came home. Let Bagot take her income; and as for Julius, they would take him and flee to some remote corner of Europe, there to abide till the Colonel relented, or had drunk himself to death. Lady Lee smiled at all this display of love, but shook her head. He, Durham, must be patient, she said.

“Miss Payne,” called out Fane to Orelia, “be on my side.” Orelia was sitting in a bay window designing a picture. She seldom came near the fire, and never felt cold. “I am telling Hester that we ought to break through the cobwebs that sunder us--scatter the filthy lucre to the winds--snatch up Julius out of reach of the ogre Bagot, and try if the wings of Eros cannot shield us against the hardest fate.”

“Hester has given up much for you already, Captain Fane,” said the austere Orelia. “Your coming has upset the rarest plan; and now I am left to walk the path alone.”

“What was the plan?” inquired Fane.

“We were going, Orelia and I,” said Lady Lee, with an irreverent smile, “to daff the world aside--to devote ourselves to good works--and we actually set out on our thorny path; but I see now, that if we had continued as we begun, casting as we did so many glances backward on the vanities of the past, we should, if justice had been administered now as in the days of the patriarchs, have both been made pillars of salt.”

“Speak for yourself, my dear,” returned Orelia, sharpening her pencil and her tone. “I, at least, was quite resolute to persevere, and am so still.”

“Perhaps an equally unworthy excuse, as that which Hester pleads for changing her mind, may yet avail you,” suggested Fane.

“Never,” returned Orelia, with the greatest firmness.

“Do you think she really doesn’t care for Langley?” whispered Fane to Lady Lee.

Lady Lee looked towards her friend with an affectionate smile. “She’s an odd girl,” she said, “and ’tisn’t easy to ascertain her feelings till they are strongly excited.”

“I’ll prove them, now,” said Fane, rising, and going to a portfolio in the room, and taking thence a drawing. “Miss Payne,” he said, “you are always ready to recognise skill in art. See, here is a sketch I lately rescued from the oblivion of a bookseller’s shop; what do you think of it?”

Orelia took it. No one knew better than she the peculiar touch and bold outline. She gazed at it earnestly for a minute--looked up wonderingly and inquiringly at Fane; but, meeting a peculiar searching glance, she lowered her eyes, and coloured violently.

“If you like it, and would wish others of the same sort, I think I could procure you some,” he said.

Orelia laid down the drawing--glanced aside--again looked at it--then turned her eye uneasily to Lady Lee, who was smilingly watching her. “How very heartless to trifle with me so,” thought Orelia, “particularly of Hester; but I’ll show them they can’t move me. I won’t be their sport.”

So she stoically resumed her employment, feeling very fidgety nevertheless. In her agitation, she shaded a cloud in her sky with sepia instead of the proper grey tint--dashed a brushful of water at it--smudged her whole sky irretrievably, as if an eccentric-looking thunderstorm were brewing--rubbed a hole in the paper in getting it out, and threw down her brush with an expression of impatience.

“He’s a very promising artist the person who did this sketch,” said the unfeeling Fane to Lady Lee. “I feel quite interested in him.” Lady Lee shook her head while she smiled at him. She saw her impetuous friend was getting quite excited. “Serve her right for her hypocrisy,” whispered Fane. “I don’t pity her in the least. They must be in Frewenham by this time,” he added, looking at his watch; “and, allowing an hour for the interview between them and Langley, they will be here to lunch.”

Orelia’s ears were on the stretch to catch any further information, which, however, she would have died rather than ask for.

But the only further talk on the subject was when Fane asked Lady Lee “if she didn’t think it would be a kind act to take this poor artist by the hand, and give him an opening to make his way?”

“Poor artist! Take him by the hand, indeed!” thought Orelia, with a glance of great scorn; and indeed she would hardly have been content to vent her indignation in glances, had not Miss Fillett just then entered, and changed the current of their discourse. Kitty’s manner was excited, and her eyes were red.

“Ho, my lady,” cried she, “here’s Noble have come, and he wish to see your ladyship.”

“Noble!” cried her ladyship; “did they not say he was with Colonel Lee?”

“He was, my lady; but, ho! Colonel Lee”--here Fillett choked. “Harry’ll tell you himself: come in, Noble, and speak to my lady.”

Noble, who was waiting at the door, entered, and made his bow.

“You come from the Colonel--you have a letter for me,” said Lady Lee, holding out her hand for the expected missive.

“No, my lady,” said Noble.

“Speak up, Harry,” said Miss Fillett, with a sob.

“We started for France, me and the Colonel,” said Noble, clearing his throat; “and as soon as ever he got ashore, he was took ill in the same way as he was in London. The doctors said ’twas owing to his not being able to keep nothing on his stomach on the passage across--brandy nor nothing--for the water was very rough.”

“He is ill, then,” said Lady Lee; “not seriously, I trust.”

“My lady, he’s gone,” cried Fillett.

“Dead?” said Lady Lee.

“Dead,” said Noble. “He got quite wild when he was took to the hotel; and after we got him to bed, he did himself a mischief, by jumping out of window while he was out of his mind. When we picked him up he couldn’t speak.”

“And he died so?” cried Lady Lee.

“Not immediate,” said Noble, speaking in a deep low voice, and keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Lady Lee; “he got his speech again for a little, and knowed me. ‘This is the finish, Noble,’ says he, ‘and I’m glad of it; I wouldn’t have consented to live.’ Them was his last sensible words. He talked afterwards, to be sure, but not to know what he was saying. He appeared to be in the belief that he was back at the Heronry. He talked of the horses there, in particular of old Coverly, who died of gripes better than six years ago.”

Lady Lee put her handkerchief to her eyes. She had a tear for poor Bagot. Death sponged away the recollection of his animosity towards her, and she remembered only the old familiar face and rough good-nature. “The poor Colonel,” she said; “the poor, poor Colonel! And his remains, Noble?”

“There was two gentlemen as was friends of his in the town; Sir John Barrett was one of ’em. They was very sorry; they ordered everything, and went to the funeral; and though it warn’t altogether in the style I could wish--no hearse nor mourners--yet it was done respectable.”

Lady Lee wept silently, and Fane thought her tears became her. Both of them probably remembered that the only obstacle to their union was removed by Bagot’s death, but the taste of both was too fine to allow such a thought to be expressed that day in any way. “Leave me now, Noble,” she said; “I will hear more from you another time.”

Kitty--who, when Noble reached the catastrophe, had been seized with an hysterical weeping that sounded like a succession of small sneezes--opened the door for him, and followed him out. Noble walked down stairs before her, not turning his head nor speaking.

“Harry,” said Kitty, with a sniff, when he reached the hall--“Harry!”

Noble turned, and surveyed her austerely.

“Ho, Harry,” said Kitty, “haven’t you got a word for a friend?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “for a friend I’ve got more than a word.”

“I thought we were friends, Noble,” said Miss Fillett, taking up the corner of her apron, and examining it.

“There’s people in the world one can’t be friends with, however a body may wish it,” replied Noble.

“And am I one of that sort, Harry?” said Kitty, with a sidelong look. “Am I, Harry?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “yes, you be. Look here! I’d have cut off my arm to do you any good” (striking it with the edge of his hand). “You know that very well, but I can’t stand your ways--no, I can’t, and I ain’t agoing to any more.”

“What ways do you mean?” said Miss Fillett innocently; “I’m sorry my ways isn’t pleasant, Harry.”

“Pleasant!” said Harry; “they can be pleasant enough when you like; but when you drive a man a’most crazy, and make him wish to cut his fellow-creeturs’ throats, and his own afterwards, do you think that’s pleasant?”

Kitty at this tossed up her head, and sniffed with an injured air. “If I give you such thoughts as them, Mr Noble, of course ’tis better to have nothink to say to me. I wasn’t aware my conversation made people murderers.”

“Look here,” said Noble; “I don’t say I like you the worse for it. No, cuss it! I like you the better--that’s the cussed part of it; but what I mean is, that I ain’t going to be tormented and kept awake at nights, and to lose my meals as well as my sleep, and to go a-hating my fellow-creeturs, just upon account of your philanderings; and the best way is not to care who you philander with, and to leave you to keep company with them as can stand having the life worried out of ’em better than I can.”

“I’m glad you’ve spoke out, Noble,” said Kitty, who spied relenting in his look, and who kept up the injured air. “I didn’t know I was such a rogue and a villain as I’m made out to be by you. If I’d wished to slay or hang somebody, you couldn’t have spoke worse of me.”

“Well,” said Noble, “I didn’t mean to vex you, though you’ve vexed me many a time. I was only saying why it was I warn’t going to be fooled any longer. Come, I’ll shake hands with you.”

“Ho, what! take the hand of a young person that wishes people to cut other people’s throats! I wonder at you,” said Miss Fillett, allowing him to get only the tip of her little finger into his hand.

“Come,” said the unhappy victim of female arts, “say you won’t torment me any more with talking and smiling at fellows, and I’ll be as fond of you as ever. Look here; here’s some French gloves that I smuggled over, and was going to put into your bandbox without your knowing who they’d come from. Let me try ’em on, Kitty.”

Miss Fillett glanced aside at the packet displayed in his hand. “What lovely colours!” thought Kitty; “that lilac _is_ genteel, and so is the straw colour. He never could have chose ’em himself.” But she still feigned displeasure, and Mr Noble’s desire for reconciliation was becoming proportionably ardent, when the pair were disturbed by a carriage driving up to the door, and made off to terminate the interview in the kitchen.

The carriage in question contained those whom Fane expected--viz., Mr Payne, Mr Levitt, and Langley. The latter helped out his uncle (who appeared to be in much better health) with a care and affection that showed they were entirely reconciled. At the first meeting Mr Levitt had attempted to maintain his cynical demeanour, and was highly disgusted with himself, afterwards, to remember how signally he had failed. “Till I witnessed that meeting,” said Mr Payne afterwards to Fane, “I had no idea how much your uncle loved that boy.”

Fane was looking out of the window, and saw them approach. “Here they are,” he said--“your papa, Miss Payne, and my uncle; and I see my cousin Langley is with them. Have you ever heard me speak of him? I think you’ll like him.”

“Do you, indeed!” said Orelia stiffly; for she had by no means recovered her temper since the drawings had been produced by Fane, and was not disposed to be particularly amiable to her new guests.

Mr Payne entered first and kissed Orelia.

“I bring an old and a young friend of mine, my dear. This is Mr Levitt, and--where’s Langley? Come along, Langley.”

Langley stept forward and took the young lady’s hand.

“Onslow!” cried Orelia.

“Yes,” said the ex-dragoon, in a low voice, and with his well-known smile, “Onslow and Langley Levitt.”

“You didn’t know, sir,” said Fane to his uncle, “of the fatted calf we had ready for your prodigal nephew. He and Orelia are old friends--I think I may add, something more than old friends.”

“You don’t say so!” said Mr Levitt, pressing forward and taking both Orelia’s hands in his. “My dear,” he said, watching Langley’s and her agitation, “I believe you are going to put the finishing stroke to my happiness, and I shall like you better even than I expected.”

“Why, God bless me!” cried Mr Payne, “I never heard a word of this. The monkey has been extremely sly.”

Orelia, now a little paler than usual, was regarding her lover with steady eyes.

“I shall never call you anything but Onslow,” she said; and she kept her word.

* * * * *

Mr Levitt was in every respect satisfied with the choice of his nephews, as indeed he had good reason to be. What did the man expect, I wonder! He was almost as impatient as the young men to put all future disappointment out of the power of fate by immediate marriage; and as the ladies did not offer a very spirited resistance, he had his way.

Accordingly the courtship was short, and principally remarkable for a revolution that took place in the opinions of Lady Lee. Formerly, she had been accustomed, in the moments of dignified cynicism which occasionally visited her, to be very unsparing in her contempt for the ordinary forms of love-making; kissing, in particular, she considered to be a practice even beneath contempt, from its extreme silliness--fit, she would say, only for children--an opinion she had occasionally communicated to Sir Joseph when his fondness became troublesome.

This, however, with many graver theories, had been upset since she fell in love with Fane. The first time he kissed her it evaporated in an uncommon flutter of not unpleasant emotion, which puzzled her ladyship the more because she perfectly remembered that a kiss from Sir Joseph had never caused her to feel any greater agitation than if she had flattened her nose against a pane of glass.

However, to do justice to her consistency, she didn’t abandon the theory at the first defeat; but, taking counsel with herself, and fortifying her mind anew with reasoning on the subject, the next time he offered to be so childish, she repelled the attempt with a great deal of dignity. Fane, who had a theory of his own on such matters (whether the result of intuition or experience, I can’t say), and knew what he was about perfectly, very wisely let her alone for a time. Her ladyship grew quite fidgety; and though Fane had never been more brilliant, she paid very little attention to what he said, and, when he only shook hands with her at parting, felt half inclined to quarrel with him. After this, Fane never met with any resistance; on the contrary, not content with one of these silly proceedings at meeting and parting, her ladyship would sometimes manœuvre, artfully enough, for an extra or surplus salute. Such is the singular superiority of practice over theory.

Very shocking and humiliating to the philosopher and student of human nature is the fact, that these two intellectual beings, with their high imaginations and their cultivated tastes, should sometimes, during their courtship, demean themselves with no greater regard for their dignity than a redfaced dairymaid and her sweetheart Robin. But it is true, nevertheless; and if Fane discovered a fresh charm in his goddess, it was in the naïve pleasure with which she condescended (at least he thought it condescension) to express her fondness. And Langley, for the same reason, was doubly delighted with the warmth which the outwardly majestic Orelia did not scruple to display towards the man to whom she had given her heart. This is all I shall say on this part of the subject, as courtship is of the class of performances which afford much more satisfaction to the _dramatis personæ_ than the audience.

They were married, these two pairs, in the church which Hester’s father had formerly served; and afterwards Fane and she set off for the Heronry, where they were quite alone (for Rosa and the Curate had, before their coming, gone to take possession of the vicarage in Mr Levitt’s gift which Fane had formerly offered to Josiah, and which he did not again refuse), while Langley and Orelia stayed at the cottage.